Endymion
by Youshi Semenjyu
Summary: There is a legend of the ancient Celtics that tells of a young druid and the price and promise of his forbidden love. An ironic myth of moonlight's promise and quiet reincarnation...(Slight AU, Remus/Sirius) ***OotP SPOILERS** ***COMPLETE!***
1. Prologue The Moon's Druid

Endymion   
By DuoLordOfDeath  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters! SO THERE! They are all copyright of J.K. Rowling...except for the angry Celtic mob. They're mine. ^^  
  
  
~*Prologue - The Moon's Druid*~  
  
  
There is a legend of the ancient Celtic wizards that tells of a handsome young druid wizard and the price and promise of his forbidden love. A myth of elegance and sorrow; curses and spirits, and an irrevocable spell of moonlight...  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
In the days before the Romans and Anglo-Saxons, a people lived on the British Isles; the Celtics. They were a heroic people; brave and daring; vicious in war and demure in peace. They saw spirits everywhere, and it was the Celtic priest's job to interpret what it was that the spirits desired. The priests, known as druids, would inform the people if their deities desired peace or war; if famine or plentiful food was to come. The universal translators; most holy and revered of all Celts.  
  
There was one particular druid who was revered above all; a high druid who was gifted over the rest of his people. Handsome, young, and fleet of foot, he possessed a great connection with the nymphs that it was almost as though he was born of spirits rather than mortals.  
  
One night, this young man was in the forest, contemplating and meditating when a sound, soft and slight, brought him from his reverie. Looking up, his sharp eyes found an elegant white stag before him, looking at him calmly, as if asking the druid to follow.  
  
Startled and yet euphoric, the druid knew this to be a good sign. Stags of pure snow white were a symbol of the spirits, a sign of good fortune and prosperity to those who pursued it. Wasting no time, the young man leapt to his feet and ran after the swift apparition. Long black hair wild and free; leather vest and kilt askew about his well-built frame, he followed, hopeful and excited.  
  
Soon, the elegant beast led the druid to a great tree-lined clearing, where a great, tree-lined lake sat, glassy smooth and ethereal. Silver moonlight glittered mysteriously against the unrippling water, and he could feel the presense of many spirits about. This was a holy place...  
  
He watched as the stag stepped serenely to the edge of the lake and took a few drinks. Even then, the black water rippled not. After a moment of silent lapping, the stag raised his regal head, regarded the druid carefully, meaningfully, and took flight into the forest.  
  
Confused as to why spirits would bring him here, the druid watched the beast flee and was about to follow when a movement caught his eye. turning, he saw a great silver wolf step from the foliage and up to the water. The canine gleamed ethereally as it gazed into the water, and slowly looked back at the druid, as if beckoning him to come gaze into the still lake.  
  
Incurably curious, the druid stepped beside the wolf and gazed into the crystalline black pool. He was startled when he saw not his own reflection, but the reflection of his spiritual animal guide; a great ebony dog with pale eyes and a mysterious, noble countenance. Bewildered, he looked over at the wolf for a moment, then down to see what it was that his canine companion was looking at. His eyes widened as he saw not a wolf, but an elegantly handsome young man, features sculpted to an otherworldly perfection. Silvery blue eyes gazed back from those still depths, a smile playing on his lips. There was an aire of certain sadness in his features, of longing loneliness, like that of one long seperated from his loved ones; from the world. Mystified, the druid knelt, putting his hands out to touch the reflections.  
  
"Don't."  
  
The voice came suddenly, warm, smooth, and honey-toned. Startled, the druid looked up to find the origin of the voice and found the very same young man from the water standing beside him. His entire body was clothed in shining white robes, and silver light seemed to radiate from his lean, splendid form.  
  
"Do not touch the water...wizard and druid though you are, if you were to touch the water or even myself would be leathal. Mortals are not allowed to touch such sacred things without suffering...though I seem a vision, I assure you, I am quite real."  
  
Standing, the druid regarded the nymph with awe and reverence.  
  
"Where is this place, spirit? Why did you bring me here?"  
  
The nymph smiled mysteriously.  
  
"I am the embodiment of the moon, and this pool where the moon shines so brightly is my home." He gestured to the mist-laden clearing; a great moor, then brought his fathomless eyes back to the druid. "As for why I brought you here...The heavens are a lonely place...I could no longer watch your world alone from my lofty, celestial perch. It has been too long since I have spoken with another save the brash horizon..."   
  
The druid was confused; the nymph's cryptic answer did nothing to explain why he was here. Grey eyes curious, he glanced back to the still pond for a moment, then back up to meet those celestial eyes.   
  
"I don't understand..."   
  
The being smiled again. "I don't expect you to, for such things are hard to comprehend. All I ask is a few brief hours of camaraderie; you and I taking a night of freedom from the human and spirit world to run as our animals guide us. Will you come with me?"   
  
Unbeknownst to the druid, the spirit was using this as an alterior motive. Many years before, the spirit had seen the birth of this child on his banks, the mother praying to him though she had been pained with labor. The nymph had pity for the mother and blessed her and her newly born son. Indeed, the baby was beautiful, and the mother pledged the son to be a druid for the gentle moon. The spirit had watched over the lad as he grew into a courageous and virtuous young man, intimate with the whispering voices of the wood. Indeed, the moon loved this young man; adored him with all his being.   
  
Not knowing of this, however, the druid readily accepted. Blessed he must be for a great spirit such as the moon to want his mortal company.   
  
Rejoicing, the moon laughed. "So eager, my reverent druid!" he commended, and beckoned him come forward. Waving his glowing hand, he smiled as the druid went into a trance, eyes closed in soft meditation.   
  
"Let yourself be guided on instinct alone; follow me, for tonight, the forest is ours..."   
  
When the druid had opened his eyes, he saw before him the great form of the silvery wolf, looking at him calmly. The great canine let a howl fly up to heavens; calling to him. It was then that the mortal realized the change; hands and feet now four paws; a great ebony dog stood there beside the water. So they ran together, barking as though laughing and racing through the trees.   
  
Upon sunrise, they came back to the lake and the spirit returned to human form. He had begun to fade with the dawn; to return again with the adventing moon. Again a man, the druid smiled breathlessly. "I will be back tonight on the moonrise, good spirit. Farewell!"   
  
The spirit stepped onto the unmoveable water and watched the man flee, black hair flying elegantly about his broad shoulders. He smiled tenderly. "I shall look forward to it, my blessed druid."   
  
And so, as he promised, the druid came again that night, and they ran. Soon the mortal was visiting every night, and more and more they spoke instead of running; man to spirit and not canines side by side. Only returning home with the dawn and vanishing into the wood at dusk did the druid depart from the moon's gleaming side...for he too, had fallen victim to irresistable taboo. Enraptured by the kind, wonderful spirit, he had found his heart no longer was his own, but the moon's as well. Though they could not touch nor caress, they made love with words; ballads and sonnets, both rejoicing in the art of this forbidden pleasure...   
  
Soon, however, the people that knew the druid began to notice his strange behavior. Nights saw him absent from his home, days saw him meditating or slumbering. so, one evening, when the moon was bright and waxed to full, they sent a scout to follow him; to see where it was that he retreated to when the sun vanished under the horizon. What the scout found was unbearable; to him, the greatest, most horrendous treachery ever witnessed. The spirits were not allowed to finagle with mortals; the gods forbade it! Flying on fleet feet back to the council, he told them all he had seen and heard; told of the handsome druid's adorned words and the elegant spirit's ardorous gestures.   
  
Outrage! The gods demanded sacrifice to atone for his sins; only his blood sprayed on the feet of him who he adored would appease them! Spite in their eyes, they prepared for battle; swords and spears hung from their kilts and leather belts, and blue paint covered their faces. There would be shed crimson tonight; holy sacrifice for one of the most deadly sins. Their arms ready and prepared, they departed for the misty moor, silent and deadly.   
  
Upon reaching the edge of the forest where the moor and lake reached out over the land, they saw indeed the proof of what the scout had said. Sinister rage darkened each face; when they sprang, it was sudden and fearless.   
  
The druid, unarmed and unable to be aided by the spirit, was taken by surprise. But he would not fall like a weakling. Bare-chested and basking in the glow of his lover's light, he stood his firm ground; grey eyes fearless as he watched the onslaught take him. Fiery slashes of swords burned his body with liquid crimson; spears pierced flawless flesh, but he did not cry out. He had known the risks of his love; he would not bear shame for it by gracing their rage with a reply. Spattered with his lifeflow, he fell to the banks, gasping for air from pierced lungs, but his eyes were firm and steady. He saw the assassins come towards him; scorn in their eyes...   
  
"Stop!" bellowed a great and sacred voice. silver light flooded the area, blinding the men for a moment, and then they saw..the terrible, awful rage that was painted on the moon's handsome face. Once kind eyes now burned with unquenchable revile; vicious winds blew his tawney hair about; ivory, bloodstained robes beating violently. Crimson-stained feet only graced the soft, grassy banks of his home...There would be no escape for these bigots.   
  
"You have slain him; committed your so-called righteous atonement for what you call sins! In pleasing the gods, you have only aroused my own bitter hatred!" Voice strong with uncharacteristic rage, he opened his arms and the wind blew stronger, scattering limbs and causing the men to huddle before him.  
  
"Ye of scornful and murderous deeds, hear me! You have slain one precious to the spirits and to me...for this crime, you will know the wrath of the moon; my tyranny! I cast upon ye a malevolent, bitter curse; one only of pain and woe! I damn ye and your descendants to these forests; victim to the very bigotry from whence came my lover's death! People will know you as lycanthropes; werewolves, and they will revile and scorn ye! Slayers will hunt you and your families; they will be no love for you!" The nymph's voice was laced with hatred, and he opened his arms to the night sky as the moon, loevly and full, came into view. "Once a month, on the nights when the moon has waxed to full, you will feel the pain and know the horror of the shade! A cruel, heartless beast, like that of a tyrannical wolf, will overtake your body and mind! Bloodlusty, ye will hunt humans for the kill; your bite will only spread this curse! Nothing in all that is good in this worild shall ever trust you again!"   
  
As the words left his mouth, all the men started to cringe and go rigid. A terrible cry emanated thorugh the foliage, but it was soon drowned out by hellish howls as the first werewolves came into being. The nymph, still standing before his dying druid, watched bitterly as his hellish pack dispersed, biting and growling at each other. Spears and swords laying forgotten; covered in blood, the spirit turned then and swiftly knelt at the druid's bleeding side. Gazing desperatly into those dying grey eyes, he suddenly wished for humanity; if even for a moment..just to touch his warm hand before it went forever cold...No...not forever...he would be sure of that.   
  
"I promise...there will come a day when you and I will rise from the ashes like the phoenix...reunited in flesh and blood, when the moon is tainted with crimson howls...I swear then that we will behold each other in our eyes once more..."   
  
The druid, in his last throws of life, smiled up into that face. Reincarnation...the spirit was speaking of reincarnation...but for the nymph to give up immortality for a mortal man...   
  
Ethereal robes spattered in blood, the spirit watched as the life fled from the druid's once vigorous body, and he wept silver tears. As the tears hit the black water beside the rock where the slain druid lay, the water rippled faintly, as though scattered by the wind. Spirits did not weep; for when they did, all the world moved with them.   
  
The prophecy had been laid out...but eventually, it too, passed into myth, as all things do in time...   
  
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	2. Chapter 1

~*Chapter One *~   
September 1, 1971   
  
The sound of the quill against the book-bound parchment made for little comfort. Silent though he was, the sounds of moving bodies just outside his compartment were distracting...He'd not been around so many people in a long time...Not since the days of the Black Death and the Witch Hunts. But then again, those had been dark days...of course, all days were dark for him now; they'd been dark and gloomy for 2,000 years. Staring pointedly at the yellow paper before him; silvery eyes haunted and detatched, he sighed. How many of these journals and diaries must he go through before that reverent day comes? How long must he await the renaissance of that handsome young druid, slain heartlessly on his banks?  
  
Perhaps he was never to come; perhaps, like the Celtics themselves, the legends and prophecies of their religion had died as well. No more were the days of wandering, revered spirits; of Arawn and his ivory death-hounds. No more did the druids speak to leather, kilt-clad men wielding swords and spears...No. Now was the time of guns and wands...Wizards and witches and Muggles had replaced all that he had once knew through the years...Perhaps it was this longing that was sending him back to his home. His home on the Scottish moor where the moon shone so brightly upon the black lake...His home where now stood a vast, magnificent castle that four witches and wizards had built long ago...Yes, he remembered Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw well.   
  
Eyes young and yet aged with the weight of years of knowledge, he closed the journal and set it aside. So here it was; his first year to actually attend the school that he had witnessed the birth of. Hogwarts; a magnificent structure of whimsy and sorcery. Even then, the sight had taken his breath away...but to actually study there...This thought was some comfort; some semblance of what had once been. But he knew that he could never comfortably walk those banks again...No indeed; he was lucky to be going there at all...   
  
Damn that curse...How he hated Irony's twisted hands! Only she, with her wicked, gnarled grasp, could twist his fate so. His own vengeance, lycanthropy, turned on him...He'd giveneverything to be mortal..and had gained a mortal's moon-bidden curse as well...Revenge was a double-edged sword, as it always had been.   
  
Gazing out the window as the train pulled out of the station, he sighed, looking at his own reflection. Silvery blue eyes looked back at him, and he leaned his head against the cool glass, closing them. But when he did, he again saw those glazed grey eyes, dulled in death's eternal slumber. Never to gleam with robust vivacity, nor to light up in the silver moon's light at night...Forever riding Death's endless chariot. The prophecy was dead and gone; never to be.   
  
"Hey! Hey you!"   
  
He jumped at the sudden addressment and looked back at the window at the reflection. Curious grey eyes gazed at him through shaggy ebony strands, and a crooked, youthful smile played on the boy's lips. His breath caught in his throat.   
  
"...Me?"   
  
"Yeah! Sorry to bother you, but do you mind if my friend James and I sit here? All the other   
compartments are taken. I'm Sirius, by the way."   
  
Sirius...Sirius...such an uncommon name...he hadn't heard it in his ears in so many years...so many centuries...Turning his head around to get a better view, he saw that the glass' reflection did not lie. But oh, he did not see the boy that stood before him; oh no...He saw only the handsome young man he would grow up to be; vigorous and lievly and beautiful beyond compare to any other mortal...   
  
"Oh...sure, you can sit here. No one else has asked...and I've been a trifle lonely anyways," he said, trying not to smile breathlessly. Keeping an amazingly calm visage, he watched as the pair filed in and plopped down. He saw that James was a likeable looking boy with messy black hair and round glasses in front of charming blue eyes. Both Sirius and James smiled at him, and he sat back.   
  
"Thanks! Now, what was your name again?" asked Sirius, making himself at home.   
  
"Oh; my name, right." He chuckled a bit.   
  
"Remus. Remus Lupin."   
  
~*Chapter Two Coming Soon!*~  
  
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	3. Regrets

~*Chapter Two*~   
  
"Remus. Remus Lupin."  
  
That introduction...how could I have known that it held so much weight for you...for the both of us. Of course, I had no idea...but you. You knew it all. Every little thing about who I was...who I had been once...  
  
How could I have known of all the hidden love you bore for me through all those many years...Throughout all our years at Hogwarts, you bore such a burden for my sake, and when you bothered to tell me, I laughed. I thought it was another grand Marauders joke. I never considered the pained look in your eyes when I complimented you on the joke...I never considered all the evidence you offered me...  
  
The clues were right in front of me...and I soffed at them with a grin and a shake of a head...how could I have known that every little gesture I did against what you said to me...But Remus, we were sixteen; what did you expect me to do? You had centuries of memories...I had sixteen years of thoughts. I remembered nothing of what you said...None of it made logical sense to me. How could I believe you?  
  
And now...now, I'm paying for my lack of insight...I suffer each day for my damned blindness...  
  
Ten years I've been here in this suffocating darkness. Ten years amidst these endless screams, watching those spectres float through these darkened, gloomy halls...I've lived and breathed Death for a decade, Remus; my innocence killed though I did nothing...  
  
Now I realize the irony of it all...  
  
Oh, how those dreams haunted me! Those strange, vague dreams that plagued me all through Hogwarts...even now, as I sit here in the darkness of Azkaban, they haunt me. I fear sleep for I do not want those damned dementors to take away the illuminating visage that comes to me only in dreams. How many years I lay witness to that vague scene, only to see it clearly now in the depths of despair...  
  
You knew, of course. You knew that when I spoke of that strange, recurring dream, I was speaking of us...and what once was. I, however, did not. I thought it just a weird dream that came from eating too many Fizzing Wizbees.   
  
I remember it all; the rocky events that followed the first few occurances of that dream...we were in our last days at Hogwarts; seventeen and ready to unleash the Marauders onto the world. Reckless, wild, jubilant...all the way up to the death of James and Lily did I scorn your words of those ancient days. I suppose that now you truely do hate me...after all those years of undying love, you hate me now.   
  
Perhaps I really should give into death one more time...your immortal love has finally died though you live...and now, I see my folly...  
  
Why did I say those last words? Why did I have to say such damning things to you! Despite all that you said about moon spirits and druids, though you thought it would intice me to your side...I loved you then, Remus. I loved you when I spoke those last words to you...though I never realized it until now. Now I see...  
  
Those damned dementors can't take away that dream...they can't take away all the thoughts of the terrible things I said...the dream was a life...It was *my* life; and its end was less than happy. I'm haunted by it all...Like the dark dementors haunt my eyes, your illuminating visage haunts my mind, Remus. The only light in this impenetrable darkness, and it has to be a light like scorching fire against my world-weary mind...  
  
I'm forced to remember the myth of Endymion as I sit here...Endymion, the handsome shepherd of Greek myth whom the Moon, Selene, fell in love with...and every night, she would lull him into a peaceful sleep and come to him...but though he saw her in his dreams, he never knew of her reality..of her true love and lovely nature.   
  
A curious allusion...you've always haunted my dreams in your vague, soft way...and I never knew of the love you bore for me, though it was such a weighty burden...  
  
Damn my blindness...  
  
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	4. Reconciliation and Return

~*Chapter Three*~   
November 23, 1995  
  
The sound of smashing wood echoed thorugh the small seclued flat as the door fell haphazardly open. The form that stumbled through the doorway leaned heavily against the doorframe, trembling horribly. His breath came in great, weary heaves, and dried and fresh blood alike painted his hands and tattered clothing. He clenched his hand tightly as he leaned against the door, clutching a fistful of shredded material in his amazingly strong hand. His young face was terribly pale, and his tawney hair, silver-stained from the vicious curse, was tainted with crimson. He stumbled away from the door, weariness and pain overwhelming his senses. With a low groan, he let himself fall onto a faded, threadbare couch and leaned his head back against the hard arm. The scent of blood hung heavily about him, and as he looked blearily at the ripped material in his hand, he looked away and shivered as tears came to his eyes.  
  
He had murdered...in the dark of the night under the light of his wretched symbol...he had murdered...  
  
Remus Lupin dropped the rags to the floor and managed to curl into a fetal position, his sore muscles crying out at him in pain as they continued to mend from the last three nights' previous form. He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the loud thumping of the splintered door banging against the inside wall with the impact of the howling wind. Finally, a low, mournful sob emanated from the ragged, beaten form, and he shook with all his unbidden sorrow. Tears would've fallen down his thin, one robust face had he not shed them in the centuries before...there was nothing for him now. Nothing.   
  
They would find the remains of the young girl soon...and then they would follow the trail of blood to the small flat...and they would end his centuries-long suffering. He prayed their gunshots; their revenge would fall swiftly upon him...His friends were dead, his love was innocent...but on the run, and believed him not....He wished for nothing more than blessed, neverending slumber to encompass him finally...  
  
Darkness fell upon his senses as fatigue and a need for escape overwhelmed him, and in time, his wracking sobs ceased and fell into uneven, distant breathing. Surely his slumber would be riddled with nightmares...  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
A dull thud brought Remus out of his restless slumber, and he weakly moaned to the thick darkness of night, raising a hand to his face. The scent of blood overpowered his sense of smell and he gasped and leaned over the edge of the couch, preparing to wretch. But he never got that far, for as he turned his head towards the floor, his keen eyes caught the outline of a mud-caked boot standing there, its laces ragged and untied. Inhaling sharply, he slowly moved a trembling hand to reach for his wand, if not to attack, than at least to see...He wasn't dead yet...he could only assume that this was not one of those pursuing him...  
  
As he reached for where his wand had been laid before the first transformation, he gasped as he realized that it wasn't there. Turning his head sharply, he ignored the sickening feeling in his stomach and looked up into the shadowy figure's face.   
  
It was almost as though the stranger was wearing a cloak...but he could tell by the waythe wind from the open door rustled his hair that it was not so. He could also see that the stranger held his wand in an able, well-seasoned hand...  
  
"Who...who are you..." Remus managed hoarsely, looking haggardly tired and wary. He pulled away from the stranger slightly, knowing that without his wand and his stamina, he was helpless.  
  
The figure appeared to lower the wand and ready himself to speak, but the sounds of nearby gunshots and angered shouts silenced him. Turning sharply, the figure strode to the door and closed it gingerly, trying not to cause the door any more damage. After that was done, he turned, and sighed.  
  
"Lumos," said a tired voice, and a dim but able light lit up the small room. Remus squinted slightly against the onslaught of light on his weary eyes and began to turn away when he caught sight of the face underneath the darkness. Adrenaline shot into his weary system, waking up his senses as surprise and relief washed over him. He bit his lower lip as a world weary emotion began to well up within him...  
  
Haunted grey eyes gazed down into Remus' pale, blood-tainted face. Several lengthy strands of black hair shaded his face from view, and the dim golden light cast eerie shadows about his thin face. He was breathing a slow, even pace, and he slowly began to walk towards the fallen lycanthrope, compassion hanging in his once-emotionless eyes. His hair hung about his shoulders, and while his face was still pale and somewhat thin, it was far from being gaunt and vampiric as it had been the last time Remus had gazed upon him.  
  
"Remus..." he breathed, his voice holding a strange note of reverence as he spoke. His face fell into a look that was undescribable s he held the wand out and over Remus so that he could see him better. He gave him a pained look and stepped over to his side, falling to his knees. He set the wand on the table so that the light could shine on them both, and he reached out a tremblung, unsure hand, touching his tawney, bloodstained hair that fell messily in Remus' face. He observed each scratch with a scrutinizing gaze of awe and wonder, and shook his head woefully. "How could you have done all this...how could you force yourself to suffer so much on my account..."  
  
Remus, who had closed his eyes at the strange tone in Sirius' voice, looked up sharply as he heard those last few words that his former love spoke. His heart leapt into his throat as Sirius finished and touched his forehead, and he gave him a confused look.  
  
"What do you mean...?" he asked slowly, trying to sit up. Sirius, however, pulled him back down so that he didn't strain himself, and smiled slightly.  
  
"Remus..." he began, and closed his eyes for a moment before sighing. "I was a fool, Remus...I am the cause of your suffering...and you do not deserve such pain..." He paused, his trembling hand moving down to grace Remus' cheek, ignoring the blood that painted his face red. "You waited for so many years...hoping that your promise was not in vain...and I dash your dreams a second time..." He lowered his eyes in shame. "Our lives are both a great irony, Remus...But I want to know...why? Why did you sacrifice your immortality for me?"  
  
Remus' eyes widened as he listened to Sirius' gentle, genuine words. He knew...he understood...After so many years...his druid had returned to his side...It was then that he realized that Sirius' hand, so warm and reassuring, was gracing his face...  
  
Forbidden to touch, forbidden to love...before that fateful night, they had never touched...only spoken...so why had he made that promise to him those many milennia ago?  
  
"Why...why indeed..." Remus said softly, and lowered his eyes. "Selene, the lovely moon goddess of Rome, loved a shepherd named Endymion once...Endymion was the most handsome mortal that had ever graced the land, and Selene was enraptured...every night, she would lull him into a magical sleep and come to him, showering him with her love...but there was one problem with this gift she gave him..." He paused, and sighed heavily, ignoring the pain that roamed his body. "Endymion never knew of her or her love...so her love was fraught with many sighs and heartaches..."   
  
Sirius nodded slowly at Remus' cryptic answer, lowering his hand from Remus' face. He still didn't understand fully...he knew the myth very well...for some reason, that was one of the few myths that had stood in his mind from his classes...But he had never understood why.  
  
"But...why...?"  
  
Remus smiled then.   
  
"The heavens are a lonely place, Sirius...and I refuse to let my own Endymion suffer the same fate..."  
  
Sirius' eyes were expressionless for a moment as Remus eloquently shed light on the question that had plagued him since his first dreams in Azkaban...He didn't want him to be oblivious like Endymion..while he loved from afar...so great was his love and loyalty that he traversed the span of centuries, his burden great, but his determination greater...only to tell someone some day...of what once was and what could be again...  
  
Closing his eyes as Remus' few but fervent words washed over him, he inhaled a bit. He knew this to be true...but he remembered so little...it was all a blur...the shouts in a strange language...the blood...the only thing clear was the woeful face of the silver-shining spirit gazing upon him, unable to touch mortal flesh...  
  
A warm hand against his cheek brought him out of his reverie, and Sirius looked slightly alarmed as he raised his confused grey eyes to meet Remus' silvery ones. Remus had a calm but collected expression on his face, and smiled.   
  
"You will remember...just as clearly as I do..." he said softly, and a great flash of white light seemed to blind him, stun him, as his mind whirled images before his eyes.  
  
The dark, thick forest...an unmoving, glistening lake where a spirit lived...a spirit who was kindred with a wolf...black fur and jovial barks...nights spent on the banks...loving words...angry shouts...pain, blood, the flash of crude weapons...the howl of the first werewolves...the horrible, angry sound of the spirit's vengeful voice...and the last promise made...  
  
Sirius gasped and started back a bit as the memories finished, and he looked at Remus in awe...he found himself struck silent as he understood the curious dream in full...  
  
"I...They murdered...because it was taboo..." he said finally, shivering as though extremely cold. "Mortals and immortals...could not...but then...you..."  
  
A look of full understanding overcame Sirius' face, and Remus smiled and nodded.   
  
"Yes...I would rather sacrifice my immortality for one moment to touch you in the vigor of life...than to watch you from afar with longing woe in my heart..."  
  
Sirius furrowed his brow slightly as his eyes gained a long absent glimmer of tenderness, and he smiled, shaking his head. "Moony..." he murmured slightly, and leaned in a bit closer. "We've done some very foolish things since we've met...but I have to say...that one takes the cake..." He paused for a moment, giving Remus a moment to appear confused and slightly hurt. "But I'm glad you decided to play the part of the lovestruck fool for just this once..."  
  
And Sirius kissed him.  
  
A great shot of adrenaline sped through Remus' system as he felt Sirius' lips softly against his; a simple physical contact that had been forbidden to him so many years before...It was enrapturing...Warmth seemed to flood from his lips, spreading its soothing heat over his lycanthrope wounds so that, for the briefest of moments, he forgot it all and only knew this sacred touch...  
  
Suddenly, a sudden flash of light lit up through the window from outside, and a few loud gunshots tore them apart. Remus gasped and sat up so suddenly that several stiff joints in his back popped painfully and a few barely healed cuts came open again, sending a few trickles of blood down his forehead and arm. Angry shouts echoed in the trees outside, and Sirius stood sharply, brandishing Remus' wand carefully.   
  
"They've found me..." he muttered grimly, and turned to Remus. He was surprised to find that the weary lycanthrope had pulled himself up and was now standing, looking darkly ashamed of himself.  
  
"No," he said lowly, and met Sirius' eyes. "They're after me...I..." he paused, having trouble finding words to speak of his woes. "I...I couldn't help myself last night...the wolf is always the worst on the last night...I...I killed a little girl, Sirius. They're here for me."  
  
Sirius looked stunned, and would've spoken had there not been several vicious seconds of knocking on the damaged door. Quickly, he pulled Remus towards him and rushed him into the back of the house, speaking very quickly in a hushed voice.  
  
"Come on...I'm here to get you on Dumbledore's orders. He wants the Order of the Phoenix rejoined...I can heal your wounds once we get there..."  
  
"Where?" Remus asked as Sirius pushed him into a back room and wrenched open the back door.  
  
Sirius turned and gave Remus a grim, unhappy look.   
  
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."   
  
~*Chapter Four Coming Soon!*~  
  
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	5. Epilogue The Gnarled Hand of Irony

~*Epilogue - Irony's Twisted Hand*~   
June 24, 1996  
  
  
No...  
  
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. As he watched Harry and Neville alight on the stairs leading out of the room, he became aware of the vicious duel that was still going on behind him. He heard Bellatrix cast her Stunning Spell, just as he heard Sirius' triumphant, "Come on, you can do better than that!"  
  
But as he heard Bellatrix Lestrange cry out the two most dreaded words, all breath seemed to flee from Remus' lungs. He turned as the large room lit up in a flash of deadly green, and his silvery eyes widened as he saw Sirius, a mixture of fading mirth and growing shock on his thin face, fall in a painfully slow arch into the veiled archway and vanish from sight.  
  
"No..."  
  
A horrible leaden feeling sank in his stomach and his throat became dry as he watched the scene, and began to reply it slowly in his mind. He heard Lestrange shout in victory behind him, but before fury and hatred could seize him, he saw Harry, and he reached out quickly, grasping Harry in his arms before the boy could do anything rash. He held him tight, fighting to keep collected and calm as Harry voiced what he so fervently wished was true.   
  
"There's nothing you can do, Harry-"  
  
"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"  
  
"It's too late, Harry-"  
  
"We can still reach him-"  
  
As his next words came from his mouth...it was almost as though someone else was saying them; someone else very far away.   
  
"There's nothing you can do, Harry," he said, his voice somewhat shaky and faint. "Nothing...he's gone..."  
  
No...  
  
"He can't come back, Harry," he said, his voice almost betraying him. "He can't come back, because he's d-"  
  
"HE - IS - NOT - DEAD! SIRIUS!"  
  
He refused to let horror and unconsolable sorrow overcome his senses as he uttered those words...but he gritted his teeth as Harry struggled, refusing to believe that Sirius really was...  
  
Dead.  
  
The word slammed into his mind like a leaden sepulcher as he thought it...Harry's cries for Sirius were vague but piercing...and even now, so many weeks after Sirius' death, the scene was so very vivid in his mind...  
  
To have come so far...only to have it all cut so short...  
  
Death...  
  
Remus sighed as he stepped through the gates of Hogwarts, unnoticed. School had been let out a few days ago, and after seeing Harry off at Platform 9 3/4, he had decided to return here...  
  
His home. Hogwarts would always be his home...it had been his home before the castle had even been concieved...  
  
Tears threatened his eyes as he trudged along, the sun slowly setting and the moon, waxing to full this night, began to ascend.   
  
Sirius...how quickly the life had been snuffed from him...how powerless he was to stop it...How, for the second and final time, he had perished in front of his eyes by those who had once been his own blood...  
  
He clenched his fists angrilly and closed his eyes, the tears slipping down his prematurely lined face. He strode quietly up to the lake, watching it quietly as the waves, which had once rippled with movement of the creatures below, suddenly seemed to cease all movement, as though transfigured into a great strech of ebony glass. He looked up into the night sky as the stars began to twinkle, and he noticed painfully that the Dog Star, Sirius, within the constellation Canis Major, was no longer quite so bright as it had been only weeks before. Keeping his eye trained on the faded star, he sighed. He had only promised reincarnation once...never had he expected in all his years that it would end this way...  
  
And now...his promise was fulfilled...he would return...  
  
Lowering his eyes, he looked about his surroundings one last time...The Celtics had died long ago..he was now only a relic of the past...the last druid had died, along with all that had given Remus such hope. His eyes fell upon the ancient, moss-covered rock that lay near the banks of the lake, and closed his eyes. He had met the druid there...had watched him die there...and as he opened his eyes, he saw, for the briefest of moments, a faint apparition sitting upon the rock, looking at him with a slight, familiar smile, wearing long, somewhat tattered robes and lengthy dark hair. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it had vanished like a Patronus on the wind. Closing his eyes resolutely, Remus took a breath and stepped out onto the glassy water, his feet barely gracing the top of the water. Not a ripple stirred as he stepped, and as he paused in the middle, he looked up as the moon began its advent across the skies. He had given up on mortality long ago...He had given up the name Remus Lupin upon his first step onto the lake...  
  
As the moonlight fell upon him, casting him in a silvery glow, he took a deep breath. But instead of a flurry of fur and fangs, his threadbare, tattered robes seemed to gain an otherworldly glow about them, silivery and gleaming. An aura of light bathed him in white, and he sighed as his robes waved about him, no longer tattered, but full and the color of snow. His face, so worn with woe and weariness, seemed to regain youth, but never lost its completely lost and saddened expression.   
  
Then, with one last glance, he vanished into the light, faded from the Earth and departed for the heavens. But as he dissapated onto the wind, the water rippled below him...  
  
For when spirits weep, all the world weeps with them.  
  
  
~*Owari*~  
  
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